


A Cheerful and Willing Heart

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Series: A Firm Hand [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:55:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it is necessary to provide incentives to promote good behavior.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Shouichi was beginning to toy with the idea of calling up Kasamatsu and Ootsubo for a council of war. Or a support group. But perhaps not—Aomine was already trouble enough for one man, and besides, Kasamatsu and Ootsubo were both solid. He had the fullest confidence in their respective abilities to handle any uppity Miracles infesting their clubs.</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	A Cheerful and Willing Heart

Shouichi was not so much of an optimist as to imagine that two rooftop interludes with Aomine would be enough to remedy all of the guy's issues, but at least Aomine did still care about basketball enough to take the threat of expulsion from the club seriously. He began showing up to practice consistently, which Shouichi understood to be something of a triumph on his part, per his conversations with Momoi-chan. She seemed to regard Aomine's renewed commitment to attending practice as though it were something astonishing to see, at any rate. 

Aomine certainly had taught her how to lower her standards. Or perhaps it was Teikou that had taught her to do that, and Aomine was merely the manifestation of that lesson.

(It was enough to make a fellow wonder whether all the Miracles were as much of a mess as his was, or if Aomine was as prodigious in that as he was in everything else. Yousen and Rakuzan were too much out of his way, but Shouichi was beginning to toy with the idea of calling up Kasamatsu and Ootsubo for a council of war. Or a support group. But perhaps not—Aomine was already trouble enough for one man, and besides, Kasamatsu and Ootsubo were both solid. He had the fullest confidence in their respective abilities to handle any uppity Miracles infesting their clubs.)

Consistent attendance might have been enough to fulfill Momoi-chan's fondest hopes, but Shouichi was far less impressed by what he felt ought to have been a matter of course for any member of his club, much less one of Aomine's stature. Aomine might have been showing up every afternoon, but it certainly wasn't with a cheerful and willing heart. He sulked through conditioning exercises and drills (when he wasn't using them to show off) and he was openly contemptuous of the other players in practice matches—not just his opponents, but his own teammates, too. He hogged the ball and ignored his teammates when he wasn't playing around them, and he had apparently never even heard of playing to a strategy. 

Really, it was downright offensive that he could do such things and still be able to lead his teammates to victory, but Shouichi supposed that was one of the reasons he was called a Miracle.

Harasawa-kantoku never had asked him how he had contrived to get Aomine to show up for practice, as he was very disinclined to pry into the interpersonal affairs of the club, but after a couple of weeks of Aomine's unfiltered attitude, he remarked upon it towards the end of practice while Aomine was amusing himself in the free-throw drills by making all his shots with his eyes closed. "I never would have thought it could be a curse to have so much talent."

"It's a funny world sometimes," Shouichi agreed. "It's enough to make a person want to believe in a higher power with a malicious sense of humor."

They watched Aomine roll the ball off his fingers; it described a graceful arc to the basket. The fact that Aomine had his eyes closed _and_ his back to the hoop did not impede the shot in any perceptible way. 

"That is a very bored young man," Harasawa-kantoku said.

"Yes," Shouichi murmured, thoughtful. "Yes, it is."

He was loath to reward any sort of bad behavior, but so far he'd only found a couple of ways to get Aomine's attention. Unfortunately, threatening to eject him from the club would lose its efficacy if done too often, which left only the carrot.

Shouichi strolled over to Aomine and dropped his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. "That's some might impressive work you're doing. Reckon I'll trouble you to stay late this evening. I'm always eager to learn some new tricks."

Aomine protested, predictably enough. "I don't want to stay late." 

Shouichi smiled at him. "Too bad. You and me can have a private training session. Just think how much fun that'll be."

"But—" Aomine began. Then he checked himself, either because Shouichi had squeezed his shoulder again or because he'd finally realized what "private training session" might actually mean.

Shouichi beamed at him. "That's right, brat, this is an order from your captain." He patted Aomine's shoulder and then clapped his hands together and addressed the club. "Now go on and get out of here, all of you. How'm I suppose to maintain my dignity as captain if you're hanging around, watching the first-year teach me trick shots?" He waved his hands at them, shooing them in the direction of the locker room. "Now scat."

They went, some more reluctantly than others—those were the ones who figured that he was about to give Aomine a proper dressing down, Shouichi supposed, amusing himself by imagining what they'd say if they knew the kind of dressing down he actually meant to give the brat. "Now," he said, while they were filtering out, "help me get the balls rounded up."

Aomine opened his mouth to argue that—probably to say that it wasn't his job to clean up after the whole rest of the club—but he didn't say anything. That was unusually perspicacious of him; Shouichi was pleased.

Harasawa-kantoku nodded at him and went out, leaving Aomine in his hands, but Momoi-chan stayed and began to help with rounding up the stray balls.

That wasn't going to do. Shouichi left Aomine to pitch balls into the cart and sauntered over to pluck the ball from her hands. "You can go ahead. I reckon Aomine-kun and I have this under control."

She looked from him to Aomine and back. "But—"

"Go on," Shouichi repeated, more firmly. "I have things under control here."

Eventually she was going to stop giving him those doubt-filled looks when he told her such things, and Shouichi did not know what he would do with himself on that day. A first-year ought to have more faith in her senpai. 

He thought he was going to have to repeat himself a third time before Momoi-chan bit her lip and nodded. "Please don't keep him too late. There's going to be a quiz in English tomorrow and he needs to study."

Which probably meant that she was going to force him to study, or so Shouichi assumed. He inclined his head to her. "I'll do my best to send him home in a timely fashion."

She went, not without casting a few looks over her shoulder on the way out, and that left him alone with Aomine and the sounds of horseplay coming from the direction of the locker room.

Aomine lobbed another ball into the cart, lazy, and turned to look at him. "Just what kind of training are you looking for, Imayoshi-san?"

"Oh, I don't reckon we need to be in any rush to talk about that. Let's finish tidying up first."

That succeeded in nettling Aomine, but he finished gathering up the balls and even helped sweep the floor (not particularly well, but it would do for the time being) before Shouichi hopped up onto the stage and leaned back on his hands. "Now. Let's have a little talk, brat."

He didn't see that there was any call for Aomine to give him such a suspicious look, but what could be done about that? 

"Talk," Aomine repeated. "Talk about what?"

"Of cabbages and kings," Shouichi told him. "What else?"

Aomine's response to confusion was to become angry. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you should come here and sit down." Shouichi patted the stage next to him in invitation. "Let's talk about what it's going to take to get you to behave yourself during practice."

Aomine didn't take him up on the invitation, but Shouichi hadn't really expected him to. At least his seat on the stage gave him the height advantage on the brat, he mused, watching Aomine scowl and curl his hands into fists. "What do you mean, behave?"

Shouichi cocked his head, considering his generally pugnacious attitude. It was no way to go through life, and it wouldn't hurt if the brat could learn to think his way through his confusion. "Why don't you tell me?"

Aomine made an aggravated sound. "I don't know what you mean! If I did, do you think I'd be asking?"

Or perhaps not. Then again, great works weren't accomplished in a day. "Mm-mm-mm." Shouichi shook his head. "You've let yourself develop all sorts of lazy habits, haven't you? It's really pretty appalling." He held up his hand before Aomine could do more than growl at him. "Lazy practice habits, lazy personal habits, and lazy thinking habits. Your brain must be as flabby as an overcooked noodle. _Think_ , brat. How do you act when you're practicing with us ordinary mortals? How do the rest of us act?"

Aomine gave him such a blank look that it sort of broke Shouichi's heart to see such apathy. "How the hell should I know? I don't pay any attention to that."

"Why on earth not?"

Aomine shrugged. "I dunno. It's not like it matters."

"And why might _that_ be?" Shouichi pressed, patient.

Aomine rolled his eyes. "Come on, you know _that_. Why should it matter? It's not like any of them are ever going to be able to touch me."

_Finally_. "And there we go." Aomine did not seem to have followed him to the obvious conclusion and blinked at him. "That attitude. What is it going to take for me to get you to at least _pretend_ that your teammates are not a complete waste of space? You've made your point—everyone knows what an _amazing_ player you are—so let's talk about the bare minimum expectations of good sportsmanship."

Aomine continued to stare at him. "I'm not _stupid_ , you know." 

Shouichi ignored the opening—it was too easy, anyway—and raised his eyebrows. "Oh? In that case, tell me—do you think being a Miracle excludes you from those standards?"

Aomine rocked himself back and forth, heel to toe. "What does it even matter, as long as I win?" he asked, in lieu of answering.

But it _was_ an answer, after a fashion. "You really are nearly the most self-absorbed kouhai I have ever had." Shouichi shook his head over this fact, mostly to give Aomine something to focus on. "It _matters_ because your attitude and behavior affect your teammates. Or are you the only person on the face of the planet who deserves to enjoy a game of basketball?"

Aomine shifted on his feet restlessly, looking away from him. "If they can be thrown off their games that easily, what are they even doing here?"

"That's the wrong answer," Shouichi told him.

Aomine tightened his fingers into fists again and glared at him. "What do you _want_ from me?"

"More than I figure I'm going to get, but lucky for you, I'm used to disappointment and I am intimately familiar with the joys of compromise." Shouichi slid down from his seat and strolled towards Aomine, casual, projecting all the assurance in his possession. He saw Aomine's throat bob when he laid a hand on his shoulder and gripped it firmly. "Maybe you don't have it in you to give even half a damn about your teammates. Fair enough. You've got so much talent that I know you'll be able to make like you _do_ give that half a damn without sacrificing your game. It's one of the nice things about being a Miracle, I'd imagine."

"Tch." That was a sardonic sound if ever Shouichi had heard such a thing. Aomine shifted under his hand; his muscles were bunched and knotted beneath Shouichi's fingers. "What, now it's not good enough that I'm coming to practice? That's not fair."

"You don't know me very well yet, so you don't know what that's funny. But maybe you'll figure it out one of these days." Shouichi stepped around Aomine and slid his hand up so he could close it on the back of the brat's neck. "No, it's not good enough just to show up. Not anymore."

Aomine's frame was still tight with tension, but the quality of it had gone through a subtle transformation. "What the hell does that mean?"

Shouichi stepped closer and tightened his grip. "It means that I expect you to behave yourself, too. When you don't, I'll have to do something about that. And when you do…" He raised himself up on his toes to murmur against Aomine's ear. "When you _do_ behave yourself, I'll have to reward you."

He felt the tremor that ran through Aomine, tiny and nearly imperceptible. The brat had some sense in his head; he cleared his throat and asked, "Behave how?"

"I want you to take practice seriously, or at least _act_ as if you do," Shouichi told him. "Which means doing what you're told and not visibly slacking off, and working with your teammates instead of around them. If you're feeling especially ambitious, you might even pretend as though you think they're not absolutely useless. You may not be that good an actor, though. You do seem to be a bit of a one-trick pony."

"And if I don't go along with you?" 

Time for the stick, Shouichi decided, but with a little bit of carrot to soften it. He released Aomine and stepped back. "If a little bit of discipline doesn't help you improve your behavior, well, you know where the door is. Reckon I'll even advise you not to let it hit you on your way out. I'm the generous sort, you know."

"Generous. Hah. Yeah. Sure." Aomine laughed, sharp and unamused, and turned to look at him. "Those are my choices, huh?"

Shouichi shrugged at him. "They seem reasonable enough to me. I'm not asking for you to be an actual decent human being. I just want you to act like one. Fake it long enough and heck, maybe you'll even make it." He bestowed a smile on Aomine then, slow and fairly wicked, trusting that the brat would be able to read it. "As I said, I'll reward you for your good-faith efforts, of course." He let the words drip off his tongue, lingering over each syllable like a truffle to be savored. 

Aomine took his point well enough. He wet his lips and swallowed, throat bobbing with it. "You will, huh?"

"I'm a man of my word." Shouichi let his gaze travel over Aomine, head to toe. "I could even see my way to offering you a token of good faith, if you like."

Aomine had already been wavering, but that tipped the balance in Shouichi's favor. He laughed, short, still with that bitter edge, but he gave in. "Okay, sure, why not play it your way? Gonna laugh when it crashes and burns, though."

"I would expect no less of you," Shouichi assured him. He turned from Aomine and headed for the now-silent locker room, snapping his fingers. "Come along."

"What do you think I am, a _dog_?" Aomine demanded. Nevertheless, he was following after Shouichi, who declined to answer that question. It was merely Aomine being Aomine, after all.

He was pleased to discover that the locker room was indeed free of the rest of his club members. That made his life considerably less complicated. "Strip off, brat," he said as he went to his own locker to see what he had on hand and whether it would do for what he hand in mind as an incentive.

Aomine was making no movement towards undressing. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Shouichi overemphasized his sigh and gave Aomine a long and patient look. "That's because you _are_ a brat. Now get yourself naked, and don't make me tell you again."

He returned his attention to the contents of his locker, which were fairly scanty for his current purposes, and kept an ear out for the sounds of disrobing. They were so long in coming that he was considering what steps to take about this latest challenge to his authority when he heard the sound of cloth rustling, hitting the floor with a hushed sound that was accompanied by soft grunts of effort, and he smiled over that and tucked his selections from the locker into his pocket.

By the time he had done that and closed his locker up, Aomine was standing naked, hands on his bare hips and his jaw thrust out at a pugnacious angle. Even so, he made for an impressive sight. Shouichi permitted himself the time to let his eyes roam over the brat, who _was_ a work of art—at least until he opened his mouth. "You gonna stand there all night or what?"

Shouichi sighed. "What's the rush? Hasn't anyone ever taught you the joy of taking your time?"

Aomine rolled his eyes. "Did your dick fall off since I sucked it or something? You sound like a girl."

"I suppose you believe that's an insult." Shouichi ambled past him and rested his hand on Aomine's shoulder, pulling him along. "And yet I think you wouldn't say anything like that in Momoi-chan's presence." Also, he was going to have to add another item to his agenda for civilizing Aomine, something to help him curb his impatience. But that was something to think about later. For now there was the little table that stood in the corner, bearing its forlorn assortment of outdated and otherwise useless informational pamphlets and flyers. 

Aomine complained about being towed after him, although he didn't resist, until Shouichi told him to hush. He pushed the clutter of pamphlets and flyers aside and steered Aomine around until he could lean against the table, if he chose. The top of the table hit him just at the apex of his thighs, which suited Shouichi's purposes perfectly.

"What's going on?" Aomine asked as Shouichi crowded him back. Then he grunted as Shouichi reached down to cup his cock, handling the hardening length of it firmly. "Fuck…" He leaned back, bracing his hands on the table, sighing as his cock filled against Shouichi's palm. "Mmm…" He leaned back on his hands, all but lounging on them as Shouichi ran his fingers up and down. Shouichi almost expected him to start purring: the throaty sound he made when Shouichi ran his thumb over the head of his cock, rubbing it back and forth, wasn't too far off.

Shouichi watched the sulkiness melt out of Aomine's expression as his eyelids began to droop, his mouth curling up at the corners as Shouichi stroked him the rest of the way hard. It was a far more appealing expression than his usual boredom and disdain, even if he was accepting the handjob like it was only his due. He made such a lewd sight like that, slouching back on his hands, his feet spread wide against the floor so that all the lines of his body drew the eye to the obscene jut of his cock, that Shouichi was tempted to leave it there, to bring him off just like that.

It was far too early in the game for that, but the temptation was there all the same. 

He stroked Aomine until the brat began to move with his hand, which was when Shouichi told him to turn around. Before Aomine could think of objecting, he added, "That was not a request."

He'd handled fractious kouhai before; Aomine opened his eyes wide at how much command Shouichi had injected into the order. His cock twitched against Shouichi's fingers, dripping over them, and then he obeyed.

"Maybe I should try giving you orders like that during practice. It seems to be effective, doesn't it?" Shouichi set his hands on Aomine's shoulder blades, spreading his fingers against his skin, and ran them up over his shoulders. "Or maybe I'd better not. I can't imagine you'd be all that useful with a hard-on, would you?"

"Don't flatter yourself." Aomine tensed as Shouichi ran his hands down his biceps and forearms. "What are you _doing_?"

Shouichi laughed at him as he circled his fingers around Aomine's wrists. "You're not dumb. What do you think I'm doing?"

"You're joking." Aomine's voice had gone hoarse.

It was adorable that he should think so. Shouichi tightened his grip and reached for that note of authority again. "Give me your hands, brat."

Aomine groaned outright; he did not resist when Shouichi drew his hands behind his back, though he shuddered as Shouichi pinned his wrists together at the small of his back. Shouichi considered that, pursed his lips, and reached his free hand around Aomine to see how he was doing. Aomine groaned again as Shouichi touched his cock, which was dripping wet and throbbed against his fingers. 

Well, then. Apparently Aomine's need for boundaries wasn't entirely metaphorical. "I'm going to tie you up." He pitched his own voice low, intimate, and ran his fingers over Aomine's cock, barely touching him. "I'm going to bend you over this table, and then I'm going to fuck you, maybe even until you scream. What do you think about that?" 

Aomine groaned again, low and hungry. 

It was a promising sort of sound, to be sure, but it seemed to him that he shouldn't make it too easy on the brat. Shouichi clicked his tongue against his teeth. "You're going to have to be a little more specific than that, I'm afraid."

Aomine shuddered. "Yeah," he rasped.

Better, and yet… Shouichi smiled and brushed his fingers over the slit of Aomine's cock. "A little more specific, please."

Aomine groaned and strained forward, trying to push against his fingers. "Fuck me. Do it."

Now that wouldn't do at all; that almost sounded like the brat thought _he_ was the one in charge. "Is that all?" Shouichi pressed, not letting him have more than the lightest touch of his fingertips.

Aomine shook; a fresh sheen of sweat had broken out across his shoulders and he was breathing hard. 

"Well?"

"Tie me up." Aomine's voice was barely louder than a whisper when he gave in. "Tie me up and fuck me over the table, _please_."

That was much better. "Good boy." Shouichi wrapped his fingers around Aomine's cock and stroked him hard. Aomine shouted, wordless, coming over Shouichi's fingers in long pulses. Shouichi jerked him through it, until Aomine was reduced to gasping, hunching forward as fine tremors moved through his frame. It was a pity not to be able to see his expression, but no matter. "Good boy," Shouichi told him again, wiping his fingers on Aomine's stomach before he reached for the scarf he'd left in his locker sometime over the winter and had never remembered to take home. 

Aomine didn't say anything as Shouichi began to loop it around his wrists, binding them in place and securing them, but the breath he took shuddered as Shouichi placed his palm against the space between his shoulder blades and pressed him forward. The table was only just large enough to hold Aomine's frame when he'd bent over it, but it was large enough and that was the important part. Aomine rested his cheek against the surface; he'd closed his eyes and his color was high when Shouichi glanced at him. He looked as though he was still floating in the afterglow.

So far, so good. Shouichi shucked his pants and underwear and set his hands on the curve of Aomine's ass. He squeezed it, and Aomine made a hoarse sound. Shouichi's own cock was hanging heavy and hard between his legs, tempting him to hurry up and get Aomine opened up and ready for him, but unlike the brat, he'd already learned how to be patient. He worked his hands against Aomine's ass, squeezing and kneading it until his skin was hot and his muscles loose and relaxed, before he spread Aomine open and circled his thumb against him, slow and firm.

Aomine sucked in a breath and released it on a moan as Shouichi continued to rub his thumb over hot, sensitive skin. He moaned again when Shouichi slicked his fingers and began to coax him open, easing his fingers into the tightness of Aomine's body with slow strokes, holding his own eagerness in check until Aomine had begun to moan, soft and hungry, as he squirmed against the table.

Shouichi curled his fingers inside Aomine as he pressed his hips down and held them still. "Well, brat?"

"Please." Aomine's voice was husky, more open than Shouichi had ever heard it. "Please, sir…"

Shouichi felt his eyebrows rising of their own accord, but luckily, Aomine was in no place to see that. "Since you asked me so very nicely." He reached for the lube to slick his own cock with.

It took every last particle of his self-control to push into Aomine slowly, especially when the tightness of him gave way to the heat of his body and pleasure cut up Shouichi's spine like a razor blade. Aomine groaned as he sank himself home, open-voiced, and Shouichi leaned over him, hissing through his teeth until he was seated inside him. "Fuck, brat," he breathed, gripping Aomine's hips and holding them still. " _Fuck_."

Aomine moaned, breathless. "Please… _please_ …"

Making Aomine scream for him was going to have to be a goal for another day, but there was nothing wrong with having a to-do list. "Yeah, brat." He rocked his hips back and forth in a shallow stroke that nearly made him see stars and Aomine shuddered as he did, moaning for more. "Yeah, I've got you." 

Shouichi bit down on his lip and began to move, groaning as the pleasure mounted higher as he slid in and out of Aomine's ass, each thrust longer than the last, until he was fucking Aomine with long strokes that drove a cry out of the brat every time he sank home. He was panting for breath himself, tasting the salt of his own sweat on his lips and achingly close to coming apart, when Aomine's cries changed tenor and turned desperate. "Please," he panted, "Please, _please_ , sir, I need more…"

It was a matter of sheer will that kept him from coming on the spot; Shouichi groaned and dragged Aomine down the table, lifting his hips higher for it as he snapped forward, urgency turning his strokes wild and fast.

Aomine shouted, no sense to it as he came again, shaking in Shouichi's grip. Shouichi couldn't help but follow after him, slamming into him as orgasm tore through him, unstoppable as an avalanche as it shook him apart. He caught himself over Aomine after the first riotous tumble of pleasure had passed over him, planting his hands on the table as he groaned, wrung out and breathless. Beneath him, Aomine had gone quiet again, the only sound he made the harsh rasp of his breathing. His eyes were still closed, and his expression was open, lax with his pleasure.

To Shouichi's way of thinking, he looked like a different person altogether. That was an interesting thought, one he was going to have to come back to at some point when his brain wasn't still sparking and short-circuited with pleasure.

Aomine still hadn't stirred by the time Shouichi had come down far enough to be practical again, though his breathing had calmed down. He made a low sound as Shouichi eased free of his body, but didn't offer to move then or when Shouichi released his hands and checked them for chill or stiffness. It made for a bit of a quandary: the brat had never been so slow to return to his normal charming self in their previous encounters.

Shouichi regarded him for a bit; when it became clear that Aomine wasn't going to rouse himself any time soon, he sighed and set his hand on Aomine's nape. "Come on, brat, it's time to clean up."

Aomine opened his eyes, but slowly, and his expression was what Shouichi could just about classify as dreamy. "Mm." 

"Come on," Shouichi said again. With any luck, it was not apparent that he was wondering whether he'd broken the brat somehow.

Aomine grumbled after a fashion (a pale imitation of his usual discontent), but at last he finally consented to be coaxed up and then chivvied into the showers. He didn't seem the least bit inclined to do anything more than that, so Shouichi finally steered him under a shower head and began washing him up while firmly quashing something not the least bit related to panic. How _was_ he going to explain it to Harasawa-kantoku (and worse, _Momoi-chan_ ) if he actually had managed to render Aomine into a creepily pliant shadow of his formerly irascible self?

Worrying never accomplished much, and it was better to be doing than to be fretting. Shouichi focused on getting Aomine cleaned up. The brat leaned into his hands as Shouichi soaped him up and then rinsed him off. It was strange and oddly sweet (if terrifying) and more compelling than he would have expected it to be. Shouichi didn't stop even after the last of the suds had swirled down the drains and smoothed his hands over Aomine's wet skin for a while before he stepped closer to wrap his arms around Aomine's waist. He rested his cheek against Aomine's shoulder. "You liked that, huh?" 

"Yeah." Shouichi could barely hear him over the spray of the shower. "It was good."

"Good." Thank goodness, Aomine was still capable of speech after all. Shouichi sighed with his relief. "Behave yourself in practice and we'll do it again."

He wouldn't have thought he'd ever be glad to hear Aomine's grumbling, but he was when Aomine huffed at him. "Fine, whatever, if it makes you happy."

"Believe me, I will be ecstatic," Shouichi assured him. "I will be transcendent with sheer joy. You won't even recognize me." If he was a little giddy, well, he'd just had mind-blowing sex and a brief panic session. He was entitled to a bit of silliness after that.

Aomine snorted at him and probably rolled his eyes to boot. Since Shouichi was still pressed up against his back and couldn't see it, he let it pass unremarked, just as he chose not to make note of how long it was before Aomine moved to free himself from his arms, or the way he was still smiling a little when Shouichi finally reminded him that he had a quiz to study for and shooed him home.

Well, Shouichi thought as he turned out the lights and closed the gym up, this was going to make his program of civilizing the brat even more interesting than he'd previously expected it to be. Honestly, he couldn't decide whether that was going to be a good thing or a bad one at all, but at least he could say that it wasn't likely to be boring.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always lovely!


End file.
